Unwanted Help
by Noobycakes
Summary: Fantrolls. Desidu, recently poisoned, didn't want any help from Gerrik, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, no matter the repercussions.


She was sitting on the edge of the hot spring. She controlled her breathing, forcing herself to breathe slowly and evenly, despite the urge to take in quick gasps. The pain was constant. She could feel the poison in her veins, blackening her blood as her heart pounded in her chest, hastening its spread.

When she was at the edge of losing control of herself, she got up and hastily walked to the forest, her back slightly hunched. She could get through this, she had no doubt. But there was no way she was going to allow any other troll to see her.

She let her breath come in pained gasps when she knew she was far enough into the dense forest to be seen or heard. Her chest was tight now, and she knew she was having trouble getting any air. Every movement her muscles made, no matter how miniscule, sent a fresh wave of pain cascading through her entire being. It wasn't long before her legs buckled beneath her and she landed on the forest loam.

"You need the antidote," a voice said behind her suddenly. She groaned inwardly, and glanced behind her.

"No I don't," she told her matesprit, who had run up to her, his eyes filled with worry.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said, shoving her down onto the ground.

She yelped in pain and frustration at how easily he had overpowered her. When she opened her mouth to yell at him, he shoved the open vial containing the antidote into it, upending it. As she felt it start to slide down her throat, she jammed her tongue in the way, halting its flow into her body. When Gerrik leaned back, she began to spit it out. Immediately, he shoved his hand against her jaw, forcing her mouth shut and her head straight up.

"Swallow it, Des, or I'll make you," he yelled at her.

She glared up at him defiantly. She had no idea why he was so worried; she would make it through this. She wasn't some grub to be coddled. Then, all of a sudden, her world bucked and spun about her. She saw her vision darken as a fierce wave of pain hit her.

Gerrik saw her eyelids flicker and felt a worry unlike any other he's ever experienced. "Des, stop being stubborn, and drink the damned antidote. I refuse to let you die," he ordered her. Consumed with worry, he leaned down and kissed her, hoping to shock her into drinking it.

To Des's dismay, it did. As she felt his lips on hers suddenly, she moved her tongue and the liquid surged down her throat, into her stomach. She started coughing, basically telling Gerrik his plan succeeded and he pulled back. Each cough felt as if her chest was getting crushed in.

"Thank you," he said to her.

Des glared weakly at him as she lay there, waiting for some strength to return to her limbs at the pain's ebb. Gerrik rolled his eyes at her, having expecting that sort of reaction from her by now, and leaned, sitting, against the tree nearest to his matesprit.

"I never claimed to play fair when it comes to something I want," he said.

"I'm not weak."

"I never said you were."

"Then don't help me!" Des said viciously, snarling at him.

"Like hell I'm not going to! I know poisons better than most; I know what they can do. It's kind of instinct. I won't lose you over something I can prevent, Des. It doesn't mean you're weak, it means I'm trying to help you. "

"Only the weak need help."

Gerrik rolled his eyes at her pride.

Des finally rolled over onto her side, and tried to push herself up with her hands. Her arms gave out not even halfway, and she hit the ground once more. Stewing on anger, she lay there.

"No, everyone needs help sometimes, Des. I just hate seeing some people suffer from being poisoned." Gerrik made no move to help, knowing that would be like throwing salt in her wounded pride. He rolled his eyes once more as he heard give a weak snort. "Look at it this way, you're alive, aren't you?"

"I would have lived anyways."

"I'm not so sure."

Des wanted to so sincerely glare at the infuriating troll, but she couldn't see him from her current position. She had to content herself with glaring at the much too green trees. "I'm sure."

Gerrik smirked at that. "I doubt it, but whatever makes you happy."

Des snorted once again. "You took it from me."

Gerrik rolled his eyes once again. "I know, I know. I'll just sit here and be quiet while you fume over it all."

A few minutes of silence ensued, until Des felt strong enough to stiffly get onto her feet. She took one heavy step, and then another. On her third step, her legs gave out once more, causing her to crash to the ground for the third time. She didn't admit defeat. She clenched her fists and tried to use her anger to help her stand once more, but, again, on the third step, her legs collapsed. Furious at her own weakness, she began punching the tree next to her, not noticing the pain of the rough bark on her skin.

"You seem flustered," Gerrik commented, just watching.

Des heard him, but didn't want to answer. She kept pounding her fists against the tree trunk, even when her knuckles split open and you could see the pure white of the bones beneath; her purple blood adorning the tree. She kept going until she pushed her exhausted body further than it was able to go, and she passed out.

Gerrik walked over quietly, and bound her bleeding knuckles in cloth, but left her where she was. He knew she would be pissed if he moved her at all; he was already going to have to deal with repercussions for the antidote and the bandages just now. So, he left her there.

He saw her coming, livid as he had expected. "Have at it, Des," he told her as he saw her coming, murder in her eyes.

"Don't mind if I do," she hissed at him, pulling out one of her kukri. She thrust the curved blade deep into his stomach. She felt better at his grunt of pain, and ripped the kukri out viciously, wiping his own blood on his shirt sleeve before putting it away. "That'll do."

"Great," he said, strained, trying to hold in a groan of pain. He quickly laid down on the ground as she walked away, his hands holding pressure against the bleeding wound. He watched her as she ripped off the bandages that he had put on her knuckles, throwing them to the side angrily.


End file.
